


Imitation of Life

by Hagar



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Humor, Mafia (Social Game), Party Games, References to Episode: s03e03 The Farmer, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1688684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hagar/pseuds/Hagar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The game needs at least seven players,” Claire explained.<br/>“It’s not a game, it’s a Soviet social experiment,” Dwight said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imitation of Life

**Author's Note:**

> [The game on Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mafia_%28party_game%29%0A). I know the rules sound really complicated; it really does seem that the only way to learn to play this game is to play it.
> 
> Set about a week after _The Farmer_ and a few days after _Over My Head_.
> 
> Speed-beta by Jess.

It was a Sunday morning. The weather was a bit chilly, but not yet uncomfortable. Besides, it looked like it might not be entirely overcast. At the Grey Gull, the opening shift staff were setting up for brunch service. Duke wasn’t supervising them. Instead, he was at the private lower deck with Audrey, setting up for - actually, he thought, that was a very good question.

“So,” Duke asked, “Care to tell me what we’re doing today?”

“I’m not really sure,” Audrey admitted.

“You’re not really sure,” Duke echoes. “She’s not really sure, that’s great.”

“It was Claire’s idea.”

“This doesn’t good.”

“She thought it’d be nice to throw Tommy a little bit of a ‘Welcome to Haven’ thing.”

“This sounds even worse.”

“And that maybe we should all just hang out together a bit, given, you know, recent events.”

“Yeah, this is a terrible idea.” The sound of voices drew his gaze up. “And it just got too late to cancel. You owe me a drink.”

“Duke, you own the bar.”

“Let me get back to you on that.”

“Hi guys!” Claire said brightly. She, Nathan and Bowen came down the stairs to join Duke and Audrey on the deck.

“Good morning,” Bowen added. Judging by the way he was eying the gathering, he had about as much of an idea what was going on as Duke had moments before.

Nathan had his hands in his pockets, and seemed even less thrilled than that.

It was maybe a week since -

“I’m going to make sure everything’s fine in there,” Duke said quickly. He had to shoulder his way between two cops to make it into his own bar. Great. “And get us some coffee.” That was bound to put everyone in a friendlier mood.

“Maybe some pancakes?” Audrey asked.

Duke turned around to give her a Look. Her tone was perfectly innocent, but he knew better than that and she knew that he knew. He didn’t appreciate this game, particularly since it’s only been a week since -

“Waffles,” he corrected her. “I make mean waffles.”

“Pancakes are always good,” Nathan said.

And that was the closest Nathan Wuornos would come to saying _I’m sorry my partner set you up to kill somebody_ and _I’m sorry I thought you liked it._

Duke threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Pancakes it is.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Duke shouldered open the door, and immediately realized that the party grew two more members. Dwight was impossible to mistake, the sasquatch, but it took a second glance to identify Dr. Lucassi.

“You gonna need more coffee?”

Dwight glanced down at Kelly, the waitress ferrying the other half of the breakfast - and coffee.

“More coffee,” Duke confirmed. Once they were halfway down, he called out: “We waiting on anyone else?”

“No, we’re seven,” Claire replied.

“Is there any special significance to the number seven?” Duke asked as he and Kelly set the food down. “Other than it being a lucky number. Which, for the record, I don’t believe in.”

“The game needs at least seven players.”

There was a deck of cards next to Claire’s hand.

“What game?” Nathan asked.

“Mafia,” Claire replied.

Duke pulled himself a chair. “Never heard of it.”

“That’s because it’s not a game, it’s a Soviet social experiment,” Dwight said.

Bowen choked on his coffee.

“Dwight!” Claire protested.

Audrey was frowning.

“You know this game?” Claire asked.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Stop messing with everyone’s heads and deal, Callahan,” Lucassi said around a mouthful of waffle. He swallowed. “This must be the best waffle I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” Duke replied.

Meanwhile, Claire was pulling cards out of the deck. “It’s not really a card game,” she explained. “We just need a few cards. A king, two aces -”

“Does it have to be a king?” Audrey asked.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll have a queen instead. So a queen, two aces and four other cards.” She set the rest of the deck aside, turned the seven cards face-down and shuffled them. “Whoever gets the queen is the detective, the aces are mafiosos, and everyone else is civilian. No peeking at other people’s cards.” She pushed a card towards each of them, keeping one for herself.

Duke flipped his card. Peep card: he was playing a civilian.

Meanwhile, Claire continued.  “There are two kinds of turns, day and night.”

“You close your eyes at night,” Dwight supplied.

Claire nodded. “First night turn, the two mafiosos open their eyes, so they each know who the other is. During day turns, they need to decide who they want to kill.”

“I’m not sure I like this game,” Bowen said.

“We have an interesting group to play it with,” Lucassi said. “Should be fun. Let’s go.”

“Wait, but what does the detective do?” Audrey asked.

“And how do the mafiosos ‘kill’?” Nathan demanded.

“It’ll be easier if I only explain the rules when we get there. Really,” Claire said.

“She’s right,” Dwight confirmed. “Only way to learn this game is to play it.”

“You are never allowed to plan another party,” Duke told Claire. He turned to Audrey. “This is still your fault.”

Audrey rolled her eyes.

“All right,” Claire said cheerfully. “Nighty-night, everyone close their eyes.”

Duke counted to five before she continued: “Mafiosos, open your eyes. Locate each other.” Another count of five, then: “Mafiosos, close your eyes. Good morning, everyone.”

Around the table, everyone opened their eyes.

“Now what?” Bowen asked.

It was Lucassi who replied. “Now you try to figure out who might be a mafioso, put it up to a vote, give the poor schmuck a chance to defend themselves - never works, by the way - then vote again and lynch them.”

“Lynch,” Audrey repeated.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at Lucassi. “You said ‘you’. Not ‘we’.”

“That’s because I’m going to make your life easy and volunteer. We’re not going to find either of the mafiosos on the first day, anyway, and the day can’t end until we successfully lynch someone. Besides, the more quickly we get this over with, the less time the mafiosos have to coordinate.”

“And if they can’t coordinate, they can’t kill,” Dwight said. “Sounds like a plan. Who’s for killing Lucassi?”

He raised his hand. So did Nathan and, after a split-second hesitation, Bowen.

“Rudy, really?” Claire asked.

“I like being a ghost best anyway.”

“Ghosts can’t interfere.”

“My point exactly.”

“Oh, fine.” Claire raised her hand as well. “That’s four. And since Rudy’s not going to defend himself…”

“Can we talk about this?” Duke demanded.

“No,” Lucassi told him, then flipped his own card. Predictably, it was another peep. “And I just became the moderator of this game. So. If everyone would close their eyes please.”

Duke was the last to close his eyes. It occurred to him that he’d neglected to look for the mafiosos coordinating. Though perhaps Lucassi was right, and they didn’t really get a chance.

Lucassi was talking again. “I’m going to name all the players, slowly. If you’re a mafioso and you would like to kill someone, please raise your hand at the mention of their name. You can only vote once. You cannot open your eyes.” Lucassi ran through their names, pausing for a few seconds after each. “Detective. Please open your eyes. You can turn over the card of one player. My advise to you is to do so very, very quietly.”

Duke strained his ears but, whoever the detective was, he or she made no sound.

It was a longer pause before Lucassi said: “Good morning. Mr. Crocker,” he continued as everyone opened their eyes, “I’m afraid you didn’t survive the night.”

“Seriously?” Duke protested. He pointed at Nathan. “He’s a mafioso.”

“You wish.”

“Do you see anyone else around this table who can’t wait to see me dead?”

Dwight coughed. The small, theatrical sound stopped Duke before he could say anything else he’d regret later. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it revealed too much.

“Ghosts can’t interfere,” Lucassi told him. “On the bright side, you and I get to eat while everyone else decides who to lynch next.”

“Gives a new meaning to ‘these pancakes are to die for’,” Bowen deadpanned.

“Are you volunteering?” Dwight asked.

“I’m just saying. Actually, I think it’s her.” Bowen indicated Claire.

“Me? Why me?”

It was Audrey who replied: “Because Duke’s not a cop and he doesn’t work for the police. But that makes me think it’s really you, Tommy. And you’re trying to frame Claire.”

“They could be collaborating,” Dwight said.

Duke was listening with one ear only. Most of his attention was on people’s body language, trying to catch the mafiosos in the act. Whoever they were, they coordinated quickly on the first day. Probably not Bowen then, since the guy was new in town and didn’t have that rapport with anyone yet, not even with Nathan, who he saw more than anyone else. Nathan had to be one of the mafiosos; but who else?

“All saying that it’s the good shrink?” Bowen announced.

Nathan raised his hand. After a moment, so did Dwight.

It was Audrey who protested: “Dwight!”

“Sorry,” Dwight said, not sounding sorry at all. “Claire?”

“As if defence speeches ever work.” She flipped her card over. “Good luck, guys.”

Claire’s card was a peep, too. That left only one other civilian player in the game, with the two mafiosos and the inept detective.

“Everyone close their eyes,” Lucassi announced.

Duke’s eyes met Claire’s. This was it: Now he was going to find out who the killers were.

“Wuornos.”

No hands.

“Hendrickson.”

Nathan raised his hand.

 _I knew it,_ Duke thought. Not that it was going to help him now.

Only Nathan had raised his hand, though: nobody was going to die that night.

Lucassi continued. “Bowen.”

Audrey didn’t raise her hand.

“Parker.”

Bowen’s hand shot up.

 _Really._ Duke was going to remember this.

“Detective, open your eyes. Do your thing.”

Audrey opened her eyes. _Sorry, Duke,_ she mouthed at him.

Duke made to move, but -

“Ghosts, do _not_ interfere,” Lucassi said sharply.

“I hate you,” Duke said loudly, even as Audrey rose halfway out of her seat and reached for Bowens card. She tipped it gently, nodded to herself, then sat down again and closed her eyes.

“Good morning,” Lucassie announced, prompting everyone to open their eyes. “Two of you would be delighted to know that nobody died tonight.”

Bowen’s face betrayed nothing, but Nathan’s expression became icier for a split second.

“You know,” Duke said. “I just realized what this game really is. It’s not mafia. It’s the Troubles. We have two Troubled guys, four of the Rev’s men, and Audrey.”

Claire’s expression became excessively neutral, as if his words engaged her shrink brain. Dwight’s eyes flicked to Audrey, then locked on Duke’s.

“Did you just call me one of the Rev’s men?” Nathan asked. “I thought that was you.”

“ _Nathan,_ ” Audrey said, sharply, and in the same breath: “Anyone who thinks Nathan is a mafioso?”

Dwight’s hand was in the air as quickly as hers. Bowen’s was a split-second late.

Nathan stared at Audrey.

“Nathan. Would you like to defend yourself?”

“What?” Nathan managed to look away from Audrey - for a second. “Audrey, why…?”

“Because that was cruel and untrue, and I don’t know why you would say that unless you _really_ wanted to position yourself as a civilian in this game.”

“And you killed Duke the first night,” Dwight added.

“Thank you,” Duke said, simultaneously with Nathan saying: “I didn’t -”

Audrey cut Nathan off. “Going again, who _still_ thinks that Nathan is playing a mafioso?”

She, Dwight and Bowen raised their hands again.

Nathan stared at her defiantly for a moment, then turned over his card.

“So, now we have a problem,” Lucassi said. “If we proceed with a night turn now, the other mafioso is sure to win.”

“I thought it takes two to kill?” Duke asked.

“There’s a disagreement about the rules when only one mafioso survives,” Claire explained.

“So we can just stick with a day turn,” Audrey said.

“Then the detective is sure to win,” Bowen said.

Audrey and Dwight looked at each other.

“Exactly,” Dwight said.

It was Audrey who reached over to flip Bowen’s card.

“Is that in the rules?” he demanded.

“I guess it is now,” Claire said. “This was certainly illuminating.”

“I thought we were supposed to get to know each other?” Audrey asked.

“I’d say we did,” Bowen drawled.

“What I learned is who likes pancakes, and who is smart enough to like waffles,” Duke said. He pushed himself up.

“Where are you going?” Nathan demanded.

“To get a drink, what’s it to you?” Duke shot back. It wasn’t true, but it was better than admitting he needed a moment.

“Ooh, we should make this a drinking game,” Audrey said. “Anyone who dies takes a shot.”

“That would make for a very merry party,” Lucassi said.

Claire shook her head and said, amused: “Not at this hour in the morning.”

Duke was already heading up the stairs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He made a round through the kitchen, just to reassure himself that everything was fine. When he emerged back to the bar, he found Dwight there. By the looks of it, Dwight had drafted himself to clear the table.

“I see you clean all sorts of things,” Duke said.

Dwight shrugged.

“So, where did Claire get her degree, again?” Duke asked. The words came out light. Good.

“Not in Soviet Russia,” Dwight deadpanned. “There won’t be a second round today. Lucassi begged out.”

“Good. I mean…”

“I don’t really like this game either.”

“So why did you come today?”

“So I’ll know who you’re playing.”

“Taking a bullet again?” It was a joke question, but Duke had the sudden uneasy feeling that Dwight liked it about as much as Duke liked having his Trouble joked about. “Forget I said that.”

“People kill their loved ones first.”

Duke tensed. “What?”

Dwight met his eyes. “Most people, if they play a mafioso, will kill the ones they love first. Grudges only come second. I thought it was Nathan and Audrey playing mafiosos, after you were killed the first night.”

“Well, you were half right.” Duke took a deep breath.

“And half wrong.”

“That’s still better than anyone else in this game.”

Dwight didn’t reply to that. Instead, he said: “Anyway, that’s what I wanted to tell you.”

“He didn’t go for Audrey,” Duke said, quickly, before Dwight could leave. “Bowen did, but he didn’t.”

Dwight looked at him. Then he nodded.

“I still hate this game,” Duke informed him.

Dwight shrugged. “So do I.”

 


End file.
